Finn's New Skill

Somewhere in that new pre-k room, Finn has found a friend either in a mad scientist or evil doctor or nefarious wanna-be ruler of the world. Or my son, my dear, innocent, cherub-cheeked widget is grooming his own ambitions of world domination.

(And I could be okay with that, really. Because this week he likes me.)

How do I know this? Is it because I see the wispy hairs of a toothbrush mustache that have historically evidenced a predilection for evil (or comic genius)? (A little shameless nod to my new Now Reading section.) No. That would be the chocolate milk that is permanently tattooed on his upper lip because he refuses to wash it off. Even though I ask every 12 minutes. (Or maybe because I ask every 12 minutes.)

No, the hints of a possible evil or comic future are all based on this: in the past 48 hours--and yes, I can track it to its first occurence--Finn has discovered a maniacal and mechanical laugh. My son, all bubbly giggles and crescent-smiley eyes, has a fake laugh.

But this isn't just a HA that abruptly defines the end of a joke or that awkwardly cuts through a room and makes one's self-esteem issues embarrassingly transparent. Sure, it announces his presence and his feelings on the material that has come before, but it does so much more.

Allow me to illustrate. The process goes thusly:

1. Finn tells a joke or makes an observation--it doesn't have to be actually funny, he just must find it so.
2. He pauses, two beats. The joke or observation must be allowed to make its rounds, to permeate the room, to breathe.
3. He sits back, squints his eyes, to prepare for step 4.
   
4. Quickly and abruptly, he juts his head forward, pops out his eyes.
5. And "laughs": HA, HA, HA, HA, HA. With caps lock on and to this rhythm: quarter note, quarter note, eighth, eighth, quarter. It sounds a lot like a choking lawn mower. Perhaps he will add one more HA. Just to punctuate the point. That is, if he remembers before he is caught in . . .
   
6. . . . The Silence.
7. He then turns his head to look longingly out the window, much like one would if one suddenly remembered a love long lost to the vicissitudes of adolescent caprice. Or if one were listening to Coldplay.